


lead me home

by t_hens



Series: Phandomficfest: Bingo 2018 [2]
Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Regular Job AU, Strangers to Lovers, alcohol use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-29
Updated: 2018-09-29
Packaged: 2019-07-20 06:43:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16131800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/t_hens/pseuds/t_hens
Summary: Phil just wanted to relax after a terrible day at work; get some drinks with his friends and try to forget how much he hates his job.he bumps into a handsome stranger while at the bar, and they bond unexpectedly. though it wasn't what he had planned for the evening, it ends up being exactly what he needed.





	lead me home

**Author's Note:**

> written for the Phandomficfest: Bingo  
> prompts used: alcohol use, bed sharing, writer's choice (regular job au), ghosts, accidental stimulation
> 
> a huge thank you to [Natasha](http://philsroots.tumblr.com/) and [Rachel](http://fourthingsandawizard.tumblr.com) for being my betas

Phil can practically _feel_ the click of the clock; the hands moving slowly as if they were stuck in molasses. He glances up again, though he knows it's only been a minute or two since he had last checked.

He can feel the itch to get out of the office building like a buzz under his skin. The atmosphere, the people, the tie around his neck; they are all too stifling for his liking, and he just wants to get into a cab, head to the nearest pub, and throw back enough shots to drown out the week he's had.

Everything had gone wrong. The spreadsheets he'd been working on had all crashed, his boss had been pissy since Tuesday, and he'd shown up to work that morning to a blue screen of death. He'd been on hold with IT all morning just to have them tell him that he just needed a new computer and that it wouldn’t be installed until Monday.

His head throbs a little thinking of the nightmare that this day has been and he glances at the clock again. Mercifully, three more minutes have managed to creep by while he wallowed in despair, and he checks his phone for something to do.

He texts his mates to make sure they are still meeting him and risks a look around to make sure his boss isn't near before tapping into a game to pass the remaining 20 minutes of his shift. It makes the time pass a little quicker, though he has to peer around the desks near him often to make sure no one is approaching his cubicle, lest he get in trouble for not working when there is no actual work to do.

When the clock _finally_ clicks past five, he is up and out of his seat so quickly that he startles his desk mate, Mary, but he doesn't stop to apologize, as he already has his items in one hand while the other presses to open the double doors to the outside world.

He takes a gulp of the chilly September air and makes his way to the curb to hail a taxi. The taxi driver is chatty, but Phil doesn't mind - he’s happy to talk to someone who isn't asking about spreadsheets and figures and all the other bits of data entry that make him want to beat his head against a wall.

They talk about the lovely autumn weather they are having and Phil doesn't even mind much when they start trying to talk about sports, just chirps in that he doesn't know much about any sports other than Mario Kart, which makes the driver laugh heartily.

They pull up to the pub and Phil pays, sure to give a little extra for tip, thankful for the good company and conversation, and makes his way in. It's still pretty slow inside, most people still leaving work, and Phil goes straight for the bar to get a jump start on drinking.

He's one shot and half a vodka cranberry down by the time his friends arrive. There aren't many of them, so they grab one of the smaller booths and start drinking and talking, and Phil can feel the tension this past week has left him with start to dissipate.

A little while later, he offers to grab the next round, tripping a little as he makes his way back to the bar. He grabs onto the worn wood for balance, bumping into the patron already waiting there for their own drinks, and they catch him as he stumbles a little bit more. Phil looks up to thank him, but the words stick in his throat.

"Whoa, there. It's only half six. Do you already need cut off?" the handsome stranger asks, his hand still gripped onto to Phil's arm to steady him.

Phil stares for a second before he remembers he hasn't replied.

"No, I'm okay. It's just my giant feet, I promise."

The stranger chuckles and finally releases Phil after making sure he's secure on his feet.

"I'm sure those long limbs don't help anything, either. It's a bit like Bambi on ice," the stranger says, a smile in his eyes to take away any sting from his words.

Phil huffs and sticks out his tongue, forever a younger sibling, and watches as a dimple appears in the man’s cheek. It makes Phil realize that he’s staring again, but he's also aware enough that he can tell that he is being checked out, too, though the stranger is a bit more subtle than Phil is.

"You're one to talk. You're probably taller than me," Phil says, using this as an excuse to let his eyes sweep the expanse of the person next to him. He's probably right; he's tall and just as long-limbed as Phil, but he seems to hold himself a bit more at ease, though his posture is a bit terrible, even standing.

He laughs. “I guess you’re right about that. I’m usually steady on my feet, though. My only real problem is a terrible case of butterfingers.”

Phil laughs, taking a seat at one of the stools perched there for people waiting for drinks. 

“I’m Phil,” he says, “I’d offer to shake your hand, but I don’t want my own hands covered in butter.”

He isn’t expecting the sudden burst of laughter that leaves the man next to him, but it’s a wonderfully warm and happy sound, and Phil immediately sets out to hear it as many times as he possibly can. 

“That’s not what butterfingers is! It just means I drop things a lot.”

Phil’s laughter joins him then, a blush raising to his cheeks at the misinterpretation. 

“I’m Dan, by the way,” he says, as he takes a seat next to Phil. 

“I’m glad to hear you don’t have butter on your fingers. Or some sort of kinky thing that I would have to look up on Urban Dictionary.”

Dan’s cheeks heat up and he starts spluttering.

“No, I promise I’m not into any kinky sex acts. At least ones that involve butter.”

The look that he gives Phil is bordering on suggestive, but Phil thinks he’s surely imagining it. 

“Well, I don’t know about you, but I’m going to need more alcohol if we’re gonna start talking about kinks,” Phil says, flagging down the bartender.

They sit there talking for what feels like ages, but not in the same way that work had. There, it had seemed like the time went by too slowly, leaving him desperate to escape. Sitting with Dan makes him want to stay there until he absolutely can’t anymore. Dan is funny, making Phil laugh so often and so much that his stomach muscles ache from it. He’s smart too, talking about all of the random things he was interested in, in vast details, able to remember such minute things that Phil can’t help be awed by him. 

And of course he’s beautiful. Phil would be a blind fool to not appreciate how easy on the eyes Dan is, with his warm brown eyes, mop of wild curls on top of his head, the tight black skinny jeans that show off how lithe his legs are. When he laughs, there are tiny crinkles in the corners of his eyes that appear, and those dimples in his cheeks that Phil didn’t know he had a weakness for until today. 

And there might even be something mutual in that attraction, even. He’s very aware of how scruffy he might look right now, loosened tie and untucked shirt and hair that _was_ in a neat quiff this morning, but is now surely dropping and sad, but Dan doesn’t seem to mind. Phil can see Dan’s eyes sweeping over him from time to time, focusing on his legs and lips the most often. It makes him feel warm and confident, even without the aid of the drinks that they have been plying each other with. Their stories and laughs are probably annoying the bartender, but Phil doesn’t worry much about it, just keeps his attention on Dan and trying to hear more of that wonder laugh of his.

“So, anyway. They have this guest room, and I _swear_ it’s haunted! There’s always weird noises in there, and it’s extra cold, even in the summer. Creepy dolls included!”

Dan tips his head back, exposing his long neck, and lets out a loud cackle.

“So, what you’re basically saying is that your parents own the house from ‘The Shining?’”

“Yes! It’s so creepy!” Phil’s giggling a little, grin plastered on his face, probably ruining any actual spooky components of the story.

“I wish I could see this. I love ghost stories.”

Phil has to stop himself from offering to take him to visit. They literally just met in a bar, he can hardly invite this person to his parents’ house. Before he has a chance to stumble through a reply, though, his friends crowd around them.

“Well, hello there, Phil. Whatever happened to that round of drinks you were bringing?”

“Oops,” he says, catching Dan’s eye and having to look away before he starts turning scarlet.

“It’s okay, there’s this really great thing called a waitress that helped us out since we were abandoned,” his friend Paul says, giving him a slap on the back.

“I’m sorry!” Phil says again, and though they all assure him it’s okay, neither him nor Dan miss the pointed looks they give Phil.

“It’s all good, we’re shoving off. Have fun,” Paul says, raising his eyebrows suggestively.  
Phil rolls his eyes at him, but turns back to Dan as soon as he sees his friends make their exit.

“Sorry about them,” Phil says, tipping the rest of his drink back.

“It’s okay,” Dan says, “we all have embarrassing friends.”

Phil orders them another round and smiles gratefully at him.

Another hour passes by too quickly, conversation and drinks flowing easily, leaving Phil loose and relaxed.

“I love Speed! It, like, perfectly encapsulates the 90’s. Also, who doesn’t love a little baby Keanu, ” Dan exclaimes a little loudly. 

He gets a little louder and more boisterous with each drink, his cheeks flushing and adding to the overall loveliness of his appearance.

“I have it at my house. We could go watch it,” Phil says, the alcohol flowing through his veins making him feel a little braver than he actually is.

“Yes! Let’s go!”

Dan’s already got his jacket that he had discarded halfway through the evening in his hands and is sliding off of his stool.

“Okay,” Phil says, surprised at how easy the suggestion was taken.

They settle their bills and stumble a little towards the door, Phil hailing a taxi. Dan is a little unsteady on his feet, and when he trips a little, he holds on to Phil for support. 

“Look who’s got the Bambi legs now,” Phil says, wrapping an arm around him.

Dan glares at him playfully, but curls himself around Phil’s body. Phil can feel his heart beating quickly. His senses, normally a little dulled from alcohol, seem to turn up in intensity. He can feel the cold of the evening through the thin materiel of his work shirt, which makes every place Dan is touching him feel like it’s on fire in comparison. 

They finally manage to flag a car down and when they pile in, Dan stays close to Phil, pressing up to his side. Phil wants to put his arm back around him, but he abstains, not wanting to push Dan’s boundaries. 

When they arrive to Phil’s apartment, they stagger up the stairs slowly, having to stop and giggle several times, but they eventually make it to Phil’s door and he lets them inside.

“Can I get you anything? Do you want another drink?” Phil asks, not sure either of them really _need_ any more, but wanting to be a good host.

“Mmm, yes, please.”

Dan smiles up at Phil from where he had flung himself down on Phil’s couch, eyelids a little heavy, but his eyes still bright.

“Ribena okay? I have vodka to mix with it.”

“That sounds good,” Dan says, still smiling at him. It’s a good smile - it makes Phil want to kiss him.

Phil makes their drinks and hurries back into the living room to join Dan on the couch, torn between wanting to press himself close to Dan and give him space. Dan takes his drink and sips it slowly, watching as Phil gets the movie ready. When everything is started and ready, Phil sits back on the couch, being sure to leave a respectable distance between them. Dan seems to have other ideas, though, because after a minute or two, he’s scooting closer to Phil and cuddling up to his side.

“This okay?” he asks quietly, eyes still on the movie.

“Yeah,” Phil whispers back.

They sit together in companionable silence for a while, and soon Phil can feel Dan’s hand moving to his thigh. It’s low, towards his knee, but it makes a small shiver run through him. He looks down, finding that Dan’s eyes are on him, rather than the movie.

“Okay?” Dan asks, so quiet Phil can barely hear him. 

Phil nods, but neither makes a move to turn back to the TV. The tension between them feels so thick, it makes him feel a little dizzy. They look into each others eyes, and before his drink-addled brain has fully comprehended things, they are kissing.

Dan’s lips are warm and fit against Phil’s perfectly, making him take in a gasp when he finally gets a chance to breathe. They kiss and kiss, Dan soon moving to hook a leg around Phil’s waist. When he can feel Dan’s tongue against his lips, searching for an opening, Phil opens to him eagerly. Dan groans and moves to completely sit in Phil’s lap. 

The pressure of Dan in his lap is wonderful, and it takes a few seconds before Phil realizes he’s starting to get hard. Any other night this would be a good turn of events, but tonight it just feels like a bit too much. He presses his hands to Dan’s chest and gently pushes him back, breaking their kiss.

“What’s wrong?” Dan asks, lips red and a bit swollen from their kisses. It makes it a bit difficult to understand why he wants to stop when Dan looks _so good_ perched on his lap, but the distant part of his brain reminds him why.

“I just think we should slow down. We’ve both been drinking and I really like you. I don’t want to just have a drunken one night stand.”

He can feel himself rambling, and he thinks for sure that Dan will get up and leave because he’s being a wimp and being dumb, but to his surprise, Dan just smiles and kisses the tip of his nose.

“I like you, too. It’s fine that we stop.” 

He moves to sit back on the couch and the drunk, horny part of Phil’s brain screams that he should come back immediately, but he knows deep down that this was the right call.

“I’ll head out,” Dan says quietly, starting to stand. Phil grabs his hand, shaking his head so much he starts to feel woozy.

“No! Please stay. You can stay the night. I promise I’ll be good.”

Dan chuckles, “okay, I’ll stay. I am tired though. Wanna show me that bed?”

Phil quirks his eyes at Dan’s flirty tone, but agrees and turns off the movie. They make their way to Phil’s room where they both strip down to their boxers and change into the pajamas Phil had to rummage through his dresser to find.

When they crawl into bed, Dan leaves space between them, obviously wanting to respect Phil’s wishes, and Phil’s heart swells a little with happiness.

“You know, cuddling is nice…” Phil says quietly, wanting to be near Dan, but not wanting to impose on him.

“Come here, dork,” Dan laughs, and pulls him to his chest, making Phil the little spoon. 

Phil sighs happily and burrows deeper into the covers. He can hear Dan saying something, but before the words have a chance to filter to his brain, he’s already fallen asleep.

He wakes up the next morning, still in Dan’s embrace, and can’t help the groan that he lets out. 

His head throbs and his stomach feels delicate. His eyes feel like they are on fire, having fallen asleep in his contacts. Dan moves behind him, squeezing the soft flesh of Phil’s stomach and buries his nose into Phil’s head.

“I’m dead,” he whines.

Phil laughs, but it makes his head throb, so he stops.

“Yeah,” Phil croaks, voice raspy from sleep.

“I need coffee and food and possibly a lobotomy for this headache.”

Phil chuckles, happy neither of them had made a move to get out of bed yet.

“There’s a Starbucks right around the corner?” Phil said questioningly, unsure if Dan would still want to hang around now that they were awake.

“Let’s go, then,” Dan said, getting up and pulling Phil along with him.

Phil follows him out of the bed, relieved he was still there, and lets himself be led outside and toward something even more promising than breakfast and coffee.

**Author's Note:**

> like/reblog on [tumblr](http://tobieallison.tumblr.com/post/178574941851/lead-me-home) if you'd like :)


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